


Like Two Commas

by wanderingscholarlad



Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: ...with whom can you sit in water, Anal Sex, Bathing, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mentioned - Andy, Mentioned - Booker, Mentioned - Nile, Post Merrick, Sex as Catharsis, let them cry, let them process, let them rest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:47:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26477443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wanderingscholarlad/pseuds/wanderingscholarlad
Summary: They’re both a little hesitant when they step into the tub, facing each other and pressing their knees together as they sit there. Their hands are shaking, pressed against the others legs, holding tightly, a reminder that they’re there.They are whole and safe.It’s overwhelming in a way, looking at each other this intensely. They haven’t really focused on each other like this yet, not since they were in the van. Instead, they have spent most of the past few days sleeping, curled into each other like a pair of commas. Nicky’s hands pressed tight into his own forearms, and Joe’s forehead pressed into the curve of Nicky’s hair, a steady reminder that Nicky survived.They survived.
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Comments: 25
Kudos: 215





	Like Two Commas

**Author's Note:**

> The discord was joking about bathtub antics and I was being me on main (goddamn tender) and thinking about this one poem by Ilya Kaminsky, and so, Joe and Nicky get to have some cathartic bathing and emotionally charged sex.
> 
> Soaping together  
> is sacred to us.  
> Washing each other's shoulders. 
> 
> You can fuck  
> anyone - but with whom can you sit  
> in water?
> 
> Huge thank you to the lovely @2manyboys for beta'ing for me

They’ve lost Booker. They’ve lost Andy - she’s not gone, but in a way she already is - and they’ve gained Nile - which is a wonderful thing but they’re terrified, they don’t know if they can be the ones to help her learn this world, Andy has always been the one leading and teaching.  
They had to watch each other be put through unimaginable pain for days. Joe had to watch Nicky die, has never been okay with watching Nicky die, especially not when it’s that brutal and calculated.  
They’ve been holding themselves together, just barely, but enough that they could deal with Booker and Copley and all get somewhere safe.  
Besides, they both want to put on a brave face for Andy and Nile. They’re out of the country now though, and Andy and Nile have gone hiking. So there’s time for the two of them to just crumble and process. Joe and Nicky have spent hours in the shower by now. Nicky keeps saying he doesn’t feel clean, even when they’re pink from the heat and scrubbing.

Joe is hoping a bath will help, though what he’d really like is to take Nicky to the sea. Then they could let the ocean wash everything away properly. They’re both a little hesitant when they step into the tub, facing each other and pressing their knees together as they sit there. Their hands are shaking, pressed against the others legs, and they hold on tightly, a reminder that they’re there. _They are whole and safe._  
It’s overwhelming in a way, looking at each other this intensely. They haven’t really focused on each other like this yet, not since they were in the van. Instead, they have spent most of the past few days sleeping, curled into each other like a pair of commas. Nicky’s hands pressed tight into his own forearms, and Joe’s forehead pressed into the curve of Nicky’s hair, a steady reminder that Nicky survived. _They survived._

Nicky smiles at him, a weary little thing, and passes Joe the soap. He’s staring in that way that telegraphs how much he needs to say something but how equally, he can’t just yet. Joe smooths a hand up his forearm, promising that it’s okay, they have more than enough time. Nicky can take his time.  
It’s a while before Nicky speaks up, they’re both fully clean, just basking in the warmth and closeness, before he starts speaking.   
“You are more to me than you can dream. You’re the moon when I’m lost in darkness and warmth when I shiver in cold. Your kiss still thrills me after a millennia, you are the kindest thing this world will ever know, every day I hope to be worthy of you. I love you, beyond measure and reason. You are my all, and you are my more.”  
Joe’s frozen, staring at Nicky hopelessly, hearing his own words, quoted back at him but changed to fit the shape of Nicky’s mouth, it overwhelms him for a moment.   
“I thought I was the incurable romantic,” he manages to say, once he’s processed the breadth of Nicky’s words.   
“I’m not as good with words,” Nicky shrugs, “So I thought I’d use yours.”  
Joe presses a palm to Nicky’s cheek and Nicky turns his face, presses a kiss to the centre of it.   
“We’re okay,” he murmurs, “We’re okay.”  
“We are. We will be.”  
“Because I have you.”  
“And I, you.”

Nicky is suddenly moving, surging closer, not for a kiss like he had in the van, but to twist and fit himself between Joe’s legs and press their bodies together, as close as possible in the tiny space. He needs the tangible, physical, reminder of that one constant truth.  
He and Joe have each other, always.  
Nicky folds his arms across his chest, mimicking how they sleep, a pair of commas around that fragment _, we have each other,_ and Joe folds his arms over Nicky’s, holding him in the way he knows Nicky is asking for. It’s an unspoken request, but after all this time, they hardly need words.

Joe presses kisses to Nicky's shoulders, each one a sentence, _“I’m here. I’m here. I’m always here. Always. Here with you.”_  
He presses his forehead against the back of Nicky’s head and they stay like that, basking in their wholeness, until the water has gone cold and they’re shivering.   
“So much for warmth when I shiver in cold,” Joe murmurs against Nicky’s neck, and Nicky, as if on cue, shivers at the gust of breath.   
“Come on, up. Let’s get out.”  
They towel off in silence, watching each other’s movements. Their figures are as familiar to the other as their own and it’s no longer erotic to watch each other like this. It’s a simple comfort instead, tracing the lines of the other’s body and seeing that everything is just as it should be.  
Nicky tugs at Joe’s hands, pulling him through the hallway and into their room, where he climbs into bed and looks expectantly back at Joe. It is an invitation, clear as anything.   
“More?” Joe asks, hating how unsure he feels after London. It’s not that he doesn’t believe or want Nicky, but he knows that every touch is weighted with the feel of that doctor’s hands on his skin, and knows Nicky feels it equally.  
“Please. I need to feel it, I need to feel you, just you.”

There’s lube in the bedside table, even if they haven’t wanted it until now. Sex is a nebulous desire for the two of them and the want for it comes and goes. They’d felt too fraught, too shaken for this before this moment. Even now Joe knows it won’t be particularly sexy. This is more about reminding themselves that they’re there, they’re with each other, fully.  
Nicky is lying back against the sheets and reaching out for Joe, hair still damp and starting to curl at the ends. Joe takes his outstretched hand and kisses it, first on the fingertips and then the palm, an echo of the way Nicky had kissed his hand in the bath.  
He holds Nicky's hand against his cheek as he kneels between his legs.   
“Sure, hayati? We can do it the other way?” His mouth feels slow around the words, silver tongue turned to lead with the depth of emotion he’s feeling.  
“Sure,” Nicky promises, spreading his legs a little more pointedly.  
He isn’t hard, neither of them are yet, and Joe wouldn’t be surprised if it takes them a while to get there. So, he presses another kiss to Nicky's hand and then to his cheek, following the soft curve of his cheek down to his mouth and finally, finally kissing him properly.

It’s practically languid, even with the underlying need to press against each other and feel the others heart beat right alongside theirs. Joe keeps one hand curled around Nicky's jaw, traces the other between them, down Nicky's sternum and along his stomach, sweeping motions that make Nicky shift into his touch. He absently rubs his thumb up the shaft of Nicky’s dick once but doesn’t bother with more. This isn’t about that. It’s about touching for the sake of drinking Nicky in, basking in the softness of his stomach and the strength of his thighs, the feeling of his lips, slightly chapped against Joe’s own. It’s about the way one of Nicky’s hands presses deep between his shoulder blades and the other twists into the curls at the nape of Joe’s neck. It’s about holding Nicky, and being held by Nicky.  
He shifts them slightly, so they can kiss even more deeply, and so he can brush his fingers down Nicky's inner thigh, just lazily tracing back and forth for a while. He doesn’t push, not until Nicky whines a little, soft and high in his throat, and pushes his hips into Joe’s hand, insistent.  
“Alright, easy,” Joe murmurs, warming the lube between his fingers carefully. He wants this to be as comfortable as possible for both of them.

Nicky has been wound so tightly the past few days that when Joe presses his fingers against his rim, his thighs seize up and his stomach spasms in a way that feels a lot like panic. He hates that his body is betraying him like this. He knows this is Joe, he wants this, he trusts this with every fibre of his being and somehow that’s still not enough to convince his traitorous body to be calm.  
It’s a minute thing, that flinch, but it has Joe pulling back to check in immediately.  
“Nicolò?”  
“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Nicky promises, cheeks flushed as he glances away.   
“I need you to look me in the eye when you tell me that, hayati,” Joe says fondly, pushing Nicky’s hair off his forehead and waiting patiently.  
Nicky gives him an aggrieved look, “Really?”   
“Really.”  
“Alright, I’m fine. My body reacted before my mind could catch up, I promise.”

Nicky squeezes Joe’s hand and drags it back to between their thighs, letting Joe watch as he presses their fingers to his rim, whole body relaxed this time.  
Nicky lets go of Joe’s hand, trusts him with this. He balls a fist loosely in the blankets, needing to hold onto something concrete, something other than Joe. He’s worried he might fully float away if he doesn’t, tethered only to Joe in the earthly world, body gone somewhere no man can follow.  
Joe presses in slowly, keeps kissing Nicky’s jaw the whole time. It’s a slow process, Nicky’s body is still a little too tense for this to be easy, but it never hurts. He’s so ridiculously full already and part of him always quietly doubts that his body will be able to take it, but by some small miracle they always manage it.  
He gets a hand between them, stroking himself lazily, fingers slick from holding Joe’s hand a moment earlier. It’s not rushed. He is just coaxing his body to loosen up and relax into the sensation.

Joe is taking his sweet time, rocking against Nicky's thigh every now and then, and it feels like time slips away from them like this, an age passes before Joe’s pulling his fingers free and wiping them on the sheets. Nicky scrunches up his face at that, knows that he will inevitably put a hand down against the wet patch. He’s quickly distracted with a kiss though, and Joe pressing his dick into him, equally slowly, filling up the hollow ache in Nicky.  
Nicky presses up into Joe, blindly seeking his mouth for a kiss and tangling their hands together. Even like this, it isn’t enough. He wants more of Joe, wants to bury himself in Joe’s arms for a millennium and just exist like that, _held and loved, holding and loving._

They press their foreheads together and just breathe for a moment before Nicky starts rolling his hips, seeking more. Joe’s happy to oblige, setting a steady rhythm. It’s not designed to tease or overwhelm, just exactly what they both need. He can barely bring himself to pull out, wants to be closer to Nicky, always closer.  
He buries his face in Nicky’s neck, suddenly blinking back tears at how much they have been through. They’ve been stretched so thin and this moment is everything snapping back together and he wants to collapse with the suddenness of it. He doesn’t though. Instead, he settles himself more firmly on his elbows and bites, sharp enough to draw a shocked inhale from Nicky. He follows the pain with kisses, pressing them almost desperately into the unblemished skin. He’s sorry, he’s sorry but he needed to watch the angry mark fade to nothing, needed the confirmation.  
Nicky seems to understand though, tilts his neck so Joe can see him better, tilts his neck and cants his hips up into Joe. He’s pressing a hand between Joe’s shoulder blades, digging in harshly with his own need to feel Joe’s realness, and he’s so present and real under hand.  
Neither of them will last much longer, they’ve not bothered to make sex a performance in several centuries. This is just about them, about them being together and being real. When Joe finally looks away from that stretch of unblemished skin, he can take in the sight of Nicky properly.

He’s sprawled out inelegantly, legs hitched up over Joe’s thighs and chest heaving slightly, one hand tangled in the sheets and colour high on his cheeks. His eyes are shining with unshed tears and Joe rocks his hips even deeper. He peppers kisses along Nicky's cheekbones, doesn’t know how to tell him it’s okay to cry. Neither of them has yet, but they probably both need the catharsis that weeping will bring.  
Nicky gets his hand back between them, not moving much, just letting the rhythm of Joe’s hips work his hand on himself. He presses his forehead against Joe’s shoulder and when he comes, it is with barely a sound - just a soft bitten off moan.  
He pulls Joe even closer after, arches his hips and encourages Joe to keep going, to take what he needs. Joe collapses against him when he finishes, mouthing absently at that same spot on Nicky's neck as he comes down.

They wipe off Nicky's stomach with the sheet and push it aside, curling up together, and it’s only then, that Nicky's shoulders start to shake. He’s clinging to Joe’s arms around him and shaking with the force of silent sobs and Joe presses kisses against his shoulders and lets himself join Nicky in crying. He was right, they needed this. They are two commas, trembling with the force of everything they’ve been subjected to.  
They’re going to need another shower soon enough but for now, it’s enough to cling to each other and shake apart for a moment. Only after this will they be able to pick up all the pieces and fit them back together with steady hands and tender kisses.  
Nicky faintly notices the sound of the front door opening, but he couldn’t care less if Andy or Nile overhears them right now. They need this catharsis, and no one could begrudge them their feelings. He presses his face into the pillow a little more though, taking a heaving breath and rolling over in the circle of Joe’s arms.

They cling to each other, hands tight on the other’s back, letting the past few weeks crash over them like waves. They’re subject to a tide they can’t comprehend and the ocean of emotion is held in sway by a furious moon.   
Joe has no idea how long they lie together like that, but it’s long enough that the sun, which was high in the sky when they’d decided to take a bath, is now far beyond the horizon. The faint silvery glow of moonlight is spilling over Nicky's shoulders. The tide is abating now.  
They stopped crying a while ago, but Nicky is still taking hiccupping breaths against Joe’s shoulder. Joe is well aware that they’ll both have headaches if they don’t move soon.   
“Come on, my love. We need a shower again.”  
Nicky sits up and scrubs at his face with steady hands, before reaching over and lacing their fingers together, “We’ll be alright,” he says, more sure of it this time. It’s the one certainty they have.   
_We’ll be alright. We’ll be together._


End file.
